


Forget Me Not

by apaixono



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Love, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12982308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apaixono/pseuds/apaixono
Summary: Kyungsoo bumps into someone on his way to class, and it turns out to be his crush from elementary. The catch? He can't remember him.





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 1 of Reflection in 2016.

It's the first day of a brand-new semester, and Kyungsoo is running late.

It's not that he woke up late, per se. In fact, he woke up before his alarms—for the first and probably only time this semester—and was still able to take a long, refreshing shower before going to his favorite breakfast joint near the campus in a meticulously put together outfit. It's just that the takeout line is obscenely long today, mostly composed of bleary-eyed freshmen who are still adjusting to the hustle of college life. His relatively simple order of a grilled cheese and bacon aioli sandwich and a hot Americano took thrice as long to make, no thanks to the long queue that he had to endure. So, really, he's not that at fault as he runs to the lecture hall, flannel billowing in the wind.

Fortunately, he manages to reach his floor with a few minutes to spare. Satisfied, he lets out a breathless smile as he takes a sharp right to go to his lecture hall.

Unfortunately, he bumps into someone, some of his coffee splashing on the other person's sweater. It doesn't help that the stranger, who he painfully bumped into and spilled coffee on, grabs him by the arm to stop him from falling. He just had to bump into a too nice person, did he? That just triples the guilt factor.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry," Kyungsoo yelps, pulling out tissues from his paper bag—how he managed this feat with one arm but fail to look at where he's going is beyond him—and furiously dabbing at the stranger's shirtfront. "I'm really, really sorry, I'm rushing to class and—"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," A pleasant, cool, awfully familiar voice says, and he looks up to see—

Oh my god. It can't be.

"Are you alright?" Kim Junmyeon asks, all gentle eyes and warm smiles and his hand is still clamped on his arm _oh my god it's still warm and soft and small_ , "You look a little winded. Class doesn't start for another ten minutes, you should take the time to breathe first."

"I'm uh—I'm fine," He stutters, because what is his elementary school crush doing in his university? Since when did he study here? Why wasn't he aware? And why did he have to bump into him, of all people? "Uh, sorry about your, uh—"

"Ah, don't worry about it. Accidents happen, you know?" Junmyeon assures him, even if he was wearing a sky blue pullover and Kyungsoo's coffee is as black as his soul. He takes the damp tissues from Kyungsoo's frozen hands and dabs at the stain himself, mostly trying to dry it out rather than take it off. "Just be careful next time, alright? Wouldn't want you crashing into something again."

"R-right," Kyungsoo nods earnestly, almost looking like a bobblehead. "I uh, I have to go—class, um—"

"Ah, of course. Good luck!" Junmyeon beams at him, giving him a small wave and continuing to make his way towards God knows where.

Kyungsoo wants to faint right there and then, lie in a pool of Americano and nostalgia and shame. Instead, he takes a deep breath and enters the lecture hall. He finds an empty seat somewhere at the back near the second door, and he tries to settle his nerves by inhaling his sandwich and taking periodic sips of his coffee. It obviously doesn't help, and it makes his nerves even more frazzled than before.

It doesn't help that Junmyeon enters the same lecture hall with his professor and a few other students, all dimples and pale skin and childhood memories. He's still wearing his coffee-stained sweater. Kyungsoo still wants to die.

"Alright, take your seats, everyone," Professor Jung calls, and Junmyeon shuffles to take his seat—only two rows away from where Kyungsoo is. Fantastic. "Welcome to Introduction to Psychology! I am Professor Jung, your lecturer for this semester. How were your Christmas breaks? Good?"

Students take turns exclaiming their answers while the professor and his TA pass around copies of the syllabus. Kyungsoo takes this time to stare at the back of Junmyeon's head and wonder what did he do to deserve this fate. His internal despairing intensifies when Junmyeon turns to pass the syllabus to the scrawny guy behind him and catches his eye. The latter perks up and waves enthusiastically at him before facing back the board.

Class goes by pretty quickly, partly because Professor Jung is a cool professor who knows that no one should lecture on the first day, and partly because Kyungsoo spent most of it zoning out and staring into nothing (and by nothing, he meant Junmyeon's general direction). Professor Jung's dismissal is met with whoops and cheers, but he couldn't really muster the energy to celebrate with them. Sighing, Kyungsoo straightens up and slowly packs away his things, making his way towards the door. He's a few meters away when someone places a hand—a very familiar hand—on his shoulder, and he turns to see Junmyeon smiling at him. _Christ._

"Hey, I didn't know you were on the way to this class, too!" He beams, hefting his satchel on his shoulder. He sticks out a hand, smile friendly. "I'm Kim Junmyeon, by the way."

_I know_ , Kyungsoo wants to say, but instead he shakes Junmyeon's hand and mutters, "Do Kyungsoo." He almost lets go of their hands when Junmyeon grips it harder, his smile morphing into a curious frown.

"Say, Kyungsoo, you look awfully familiar," Junmyeon furrows his brows, obviously trying to remember where he saw his face before. "Have we been classmates before?"

_Yeah, in elementary, when I was in love with you but you were too dense to notice_ , Kyungsoo wants to scream, but instead he shrugs. "I don't think so," He says. "I've taken mostly my majors and only a few minor subjects, most of them science electives as well."

"Oh, you're a science major?" Junmyeon—blessedly—lets go of their hands and makes his way towards the door, Kyungsoo following close behind. "I'm a lit major, and I haven't taken my science electives... Huh. I could've sworn I've seen you before."

"Maybe you're mistaking me for someone else," Kyungsoo replies. His internal screaming has stopped, probably too exasperated to formulate alternative replies.

"No, I'm usually good with faces. I probably need to sleep on it," Junmyeon nods earnestly. _Please don't._ Kyungsoo had done a lot of embarrassing things in the name of puppy love. "Do you have class after this?"

"I do, but it's still quite early, so I'm meeting my friend for breakfast," He says. He's technically not lying—Baekhyun can be easily swayed to go out at this hour with promises of pancakes and bacon. "My apartment's a bit far."

"Ah, don't let me keep you any longer," Junmyeon waves enthusiastically at him, and he represses the urge to say _you can keep me for as long as you like_. Dammit. "Nice meeting you, Kyungsoo! See you next Thursday!"

"See you," Kyungsoo nods, and he manages to keep everything together until Junmyeon disappears towards the stairwell. Only then did he allow himself to flick through his contacts and put his best friend on the phone.

"Houston," He says mournfully, "We have a problem. Where's Yixing?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

"He seems like a nice guy," Baekhyun hums around a mouthful of dumplings. "I can see why he was your first love."

"Puppy love," Kyungsoo corrects, sighing as he nurses a warm mug of green tea. Instead of the pancakes and bacon that he had envisioned, Baekhyun wanted dim sum as a bribe to get out of bed, so here they are, munching on soft baos and warm dumplings in a hole-in-the-wall dim sum place near their campus. Yixing also recommended tea to soothe Kyungsoo's nerves, thus the extra large pot of earthy-smelling tea on their table. "But yeah, he is nice. Exactly like how he was back in elementary. Smiley. Warm. Gentle."

"So why are you freaking out?" Yixing asks, looking right at home in the restaurant as he picks apart a bao. "You can just talk to him, you know. Say that you were friends with him back in the good old days."

"Maybe drop hints on how smitten you were back then, and how you think he's just as cute now," Baekhyun adds, waggling his eyebrows. He earns a kick on the shin (Kyungsoo) and the gentlest of arm punches (Yixing) for that comment. "Hey! We got to keep the love train moving, you know? Gotta hustle, make a move!"

"Okay, that's enough sweet baos for you today," Yixing smiles at him, switching the lotus bao on his plate for a pork-filled one. How he manages to sound genuine despite being very condescending is beyond Kyungsoo, but then again, it's Yixing. He's the embodiment of world peace and all that.

"The thing is," Kyungsoo interjects, pilfering Baekhyun's lotus bao from Yixing's plate, "I may have been an embarrassing smitten grade schooler. And I'm not sure if I'm ready to revisit that...phase of mine."

"How embarrassing is embarrassing?" Baekhyun asks. "Like, feeble attempts at poetry embarrassing or random acts of courtship as per awful romcoms embarrassing?"

"Uh, both?" He winces. "A healthy mix of both, I suppose. I do remember writing him notes, and giving him food. I mean, I wasn't that vocal about my crush, and I tried to be as subtle as I could, but it's still embarrassing. My writing skills aren't really that, well, great, even until now. Who knows how terrible it was back then?"

"I'm sure you did fine," Yixing soothes him, ever so placating, as he transfers the biggest dumpling from the bamboo tray to Kyungsoo's plate. "And I'm sure he'll be excited to meet you again. You should really go and say hi, help him remember."

"It's a bit hard to remember stuff like that, especially since you guys met in elementary," Baekhyun chimes in. "Think of it as a clean slate, Soo. It's time to make a new impression!"

"A bit too late for that, I think," Kyungsoo says gloomily. "His impression of me is now probably the clumsy tardy guy who spilled coffee all over his sweater."

"Ah, but at least you're not an overeager prepubescent admirer now," Baekhyun grins. He gets another kick in the shin for that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, listen: Kyungsoo tries. He really, really does.

For some reason, he and Junmyeon almost always comes to class at the same time. If they don't meet outside the door, they meet in Kyungsoo's seat; they both take the backdoor, and Junmyeon has to pass by his seat to get to his. They make small talk, always instigated by Junmyeon—what did he get for breakfast, nice weather today, today's readings were quite interesting, cool shirt. Stuff like that, easily dismissible topics for more important ones, like shared childhoods. Life gives him a lot of openings to bring it up; he just really doesn't take them. It's quite weird, to suddenly say, hey, we went to the same elementary school in the middle of a discussion on the caffeine levels of different drinks. So instead of reminding him, Kyungsoo nods and says, _the usual, quite clear skies for autumn, yeah I thought so too, you like Star Wars?_

So, fine. He doesn't try _that_ hard. But he does, and that’s what matters.

But maybe life got tired of him tiptoeing around the thing, because one day, on a slow, muggy Tuesday that started slow and continues to be dragging, Professor Jung makes them split up into pairs and share their childhood experiences.

"A good number of personality theories are heavily anchored on a timeline, almost always in the form of one's age. Childhood is a key point in the formation of a person—important cognitive and social developments happen in these crucial stages," He explains, jotting down something on the almost full board that Kyungsoo couldn't quite read from where he was sitting, "So I want you to pair up and just talk about your childhood, when you were all young and cute and full of energy. Try to recall how were you back then, or any significant memory."

Kyungsoo is still trying to wrap his head around how young isyoung, exactly when a shadow falls on his table. He looks up to see Junmyeon grinning down at him, looking warm and cuddly in a pink cardigan and white button up. His hair is down today, and the dim fluorescent light makes it look almost black. He looks so good, it makes his heart hurt. "Hey, want to be partners?" The latter says sunnily.

"Yeah, sure," He replies haltingly, watching Junmyeon's smile brighten as he settles on the seat beside him. "So, um, how's your childhood, I guess?"

"Well, I don't remember much about my childhood. I mean, I do, but not the specifics," Junmyeon hums, spinning a pen between his fingers—so Baekhyun had been right about his memory, after all—as he speaks, "But I do remember this yearly talent show that we held in our school. The year levels do different plays, and it's pretty great."

Kyungsoo remembers this as well—every Christmas, their school holds this talent night to raise funds for their foundation. He still remembers being one of the leads, back when he was in sixth grade. He had to sing in Spanish, and he remembers how he trained day and night rolling his r's and l's in the right way so he doesn't sound silly. It was fun.

"And I remember being casted as a bunny once, around second grade, I think?" Junmyeon laughs, and Kyungsoo wants to say, _yeah I know, I remember, I was a penguin during that play_ , but he decides not to interrupt the other's happy reminiscing. Looking back, he wasn't sure what that play was even about, but he does remember that someone was casted as a white tiger and another one as a flying squirrel, of all things. Sounds like an interesting play. "Definitely not one of my best moments, but I really like those plays. Plus it was for a good cause. Some sort of organization that escaped my mind—"

And of course, Kyungsoo's mind decides to get rid of his brain-to-mouth filter at this moment, and he blurts out, "It was for the school's foundation, the one we use to found scholarships and do community work."

As expected, Junmyeon is taken aback, eyes widening. "You know about my school's talent show?" He asks.

The cat is out of the bag—more like it jumped out on its own—and Kyungsoo can't do anything about it now, so he sighs and nods. "I, um, went to the same school. We were classmates back in elementary."

Junmyeon drops the pen he was playing with earlier. "Oh my god," He whispers almost reverently, and he quickly closes his eyes and starts muttering to himself. "Oh my god, you do look familiar, is that why you're so familiar—hold on, give me a minute—"

"Don't hurt yourself," Kyungsoo says weakly, warily watching the other furiously try to recall their shared days.

"Dyo!" Junmyeon exclaims, opening his eyes and snapping his fingers excitedly, and Kyungsoo jumps at the mention of his childhood nickname. "I got it! Number 12 on the class list. Mrs. Seo's class, right? The Mathematics teacher who looked a bit kittenish and would randomly spout English? You had her for second grade, too, right? 2-B?"

"Yeah, yeah I did," He nods slowly. He's amazed Junmyeon remembers his class number as well. "And we had Mr. Ji for fourth grade. Remember?"

"Yeah, the tall new teacher who taught us Biology with this thick Busan accent that made photosynthesis sound so complicated," The other says earnestly. "Oh my god, so that's why you're familiar! We have been classmates before! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Um, I thought it was awkward to bring up...?" Kyungsoo replies hesitantly. "And you, um, don't seem to remember me, so..."

"Oh, man, sorry for that. I'm just really bad at remembering faces," Junmyeon apologizes. "But I made up for it, didn't I? I still remember your class number. And hey, I remember you sat on the third row during fourth grade! Behind the girl who was perpetually in twin braids."

"Yeah, second from the aisle," He says. "She was nice. She always gives me her some of her gummy bears, those fancy ones that come in big buckets? I forgot her name, though."

"Yeri, I think, or something like that," Junmyeon muses thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I remember her giving me the same gummy bears on Valentine's Day. Oh, which reminds me..."

Oh, no. Oh, _no_.

"You gave me something during White Day, right? I forgot which grade it was," Junmyeon grins, hitting the table excitedly. "But you did! It was a Bulbasaur mini cake, right? And—"

"I gave treats to all my friends," Kyungsoo cuts him off, but he can feel his ears turn bright red. Jesus. "Every year. You're not special, I think I gave someone a Charmander one—"

"I am special! You gave me a card!" Junmyeon pipes up, growing more and more animated by the minute. His grin is so wide, making his eyes crinkle and emphasizing his peachy cheeks. It makes Kyungsoo want to either kiss him or punch him; he's dangerously leaning towards the latter. "It has this free verse poem in it, because we were discussing free verse poems back in Lit class! And you wrote it in cursive, because you were one of the few people who were excelling in Penmanship—how you did that, by the way, is still beyond me—and it was so pretty. I think I still have it."

"Junmyeon, please—" Kyungsoo groans, covering his extremely hot face with his hands, but before Junmyeon could embarrass him even further, Professor Jung taps his desk loudly to catch his attention. "Okay, this is looking great, but we're actually out of time. We'll continue this next week!" He says, and for once, Kyungsoo joins in the cheers of the students upon their dismissal.

"Right, this has been fun for you, but I do have class after this," He says tersely, gathering all his things and stuffing them hastily in his bag. "I'll see you next meeting."

"I'll find the card for you," Junmyeon says cheekily, amused at his antics. "See you on Thursday, Dyo!"

Kyungsoo resists the urge to flip him off as he all but hightails out of the lecture hall, firmly ignoring Junmyeon's chuckles as he runs off.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"That's so cute," Baekhyun coos. "He still remembers everything! Aww, Soo, he _cared_!"

Kyungsoo flings a pillow at his friend's face, wishing that he had Yixing as a flatmate instead of his annoying best friend. Or at least have him with them right now, so he has someone on his side. But Yixing's parents live near their campus, and he has class at this time, so he's stuck with Baekhyun. At least he doesn't miss his shot, and watches with satisfaction as the pillow wallops Baekhyun's face. "You're not helping," He mutters, going back to burying his face in his other pillow. "It was so embarrassing."

"I think it's sweet. I don't even remember if someone gave me chocolates last year," Baekhyun shrugs, turning his attention back to his laptop. "Did you mention that you had a crush on him back then?"

"Are you crazy? Of course not," Kyungsoo exclaims, aghast. "It's bad enough that he thinks I had a crush on him before. Which I did, but that's not the point. I'm embarrassed enough as it is. I don't need him to think that I'm weirder than I actually am."

"Okay, but he remembered," Baekhyun points out, fingers flying across his keyboard. One may think that he was working on an essay, but Kyungsoo knows better—he's probably just chatting with his boyfriend, whose name has escaped him at the moment. "I mean, not just your gift, but also your class number and your seat from what, a decade ago? That's gotta be something, right?"

"He remembered the Yeri girl who gave him a bucket of gummy bears," He replies. "He's probably a sentimental guy who remembers every single person who helps him on the bus or something."

"Maybe, but Kyungsoo, even _I'd_ remember if someone gave me a bucket of gummy bears," Baekhyun shrugs. "Look, I think you should give it a chance. Closure, you know? You owe it to your elementary school self."

"But what if he didn't like me then?" Kyungsoo asks.

"Then you can file that under cute first loves—he _is_ your first love, shut up, don't give me that look—and forget about it," The latter replies. "Find someone else to bake Pokemon mini cakes on. Preferably me, because I love cake, but please leave out the poems."

"You're incorrigible," He mutters, resisting the urge to throw another pillow at Baekhyun's face. "But what if he doesn't want to talk to me after knowing that I did like him before?"

"Then you can write him another free verse poem on how he should grow up and move on," Baekhyun says, and he says it with so much conviction that Kyungsoo thinks he's going to start snapping in Z formation. "It was _elementary_ school, god. I think I had a crush on my homeroom teacher back then because she complimented my handwriting. We were all irrational young things who harbor crushes on what we deemed cute back then. I say you dump his ass and find a better man."

"He's still cute now, though," Kyungsoo mumbles, hugging his pillow to his chest. Irrelevant, but he had to put it out there just because.

"I know, you lovesick baby. Just tell him," Baekhyun sighs, half-fond and half-chiding. "Who knows, maybe he liked you back then, too. Then you can begin again and be a sickeningly cute couple that makes everyone feel like a third wheel, and you'll live happily ever after! Cue music, fade to black, credits. Ta-da!"

"You watch too many romcoms," Kyungsoo snorts. "Get a life, Baekhyun."

"Get a boyfriend," Baekhyun shoots back. Kyungsoo flings another pillow at his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thursday finds Kyungsoo running to class late again, trying his hardest not to spill his coffee as he barges into the lecture hall. Stupid freshmen and their stupid complicated orders. All he wanted was an Americano, and it took ages to make because of their no-whip, skim milk, triple shot, decaf whatever that make absolutely no sense. With a quick apologetic nod to Professor Jung—who just raises his eyebrows at him in acknowledgement before continuing to rattle off about Erik Erikson—he quietly makes his way towards his seat and all but collapses on the hard plastic chair. Well, there goes starting the day right.

With a sigh, he pulls out his binder and looks up to try to copy off the notes on the board. Only instead of the psychosocial crisis of infants—because babies have problems, too—he sees Junmyeon looking at him concernedly, brows furrowed. _You okay?_ The other mouths, frowning. He looks so bothered at Kyungsoo's distress, almost as if it's him who's having a rough morning, and it makes his heart flop uselessly in his chest, even long after Junmyeon has been placated by his answering nod and has looked away.

So much for moving on.

When Professor Jung gives them the go signal to split back into their original pairs, Junmyeon makes a beeline for his desk and plops down on the seat beside him. "Not a great morning, huh?" He says sympathetically. He's wearing an oversized grey hoodie today, the plush fabric easily swallowing his small frame. He looks so warm and cuddly. "What's up?"

"Freshmen," Kyungsoo replies gloomily, and Junmyeon rolls his eyes in agreement.

"Tough luck, man," He shakes his head. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I wasn't able to find your card in my things back at my apartment. I probably left it in my attic back at home."

Kyungsoo bites back a sigh of relief as he says, "It's because it's nonexistent. Give it up."

"I'll find it someday, and the world will be able see your fourth grade poetry skills," Junmyeon sticks out his tongue at him before turning to squint at the board, where Professor Jung has scribbled down instructions for today's dyad work. "So, okay. Discuss Erik Erikson's psychosocial crisis for school age, and relate it to one's personal experience. Industry versus inferiority."

"So we have to share when we felt productive, and when we failed to do something?" Kyungsoo frowns, picking up his pen to continue where he left off in copying today's lecture. "That's too deep for an early morning class."

"It's not as if we have a choice, so I'll go first," Junmyeon hums, tapping his fingers on the desk absentmindedly. "I felt pretty competent during those school plays, the Christmas fundraising ones. I always got casted, and I can say I did pretty well. Acting has always been an untapped passion for me, something I would've wanted to pursue if I didn't love literature more."

"Ah, I remember. You were always on the production team," Kyungsoo says, still copying down notes. He remembers, mainly because he developed his crush on Junmyeon through those plays. Like him, he loves acting, and would always participate in those plays, whether as an actor or as a crew member. Seeing Junmyeon so passionate about the same thing at a young age made him fall for the other boy. But of course, he's not going to talk about that, so he gestures for the other to continue.

"Getting praise for my performances definitely helped me gain my self-confidence, as opposed to if I probably didn't pursue acting," Junmyeon continues. "As for failing to do something... I guess I failed in confessing to my crush back then."

"That's it?" He looks up from his notes. He doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry, because _same_.

"Yeah. You would've thought I wasn't shy, when I could act in a bunny onesie in front of an entire auditorium," Junmyeon laughs, but to his surprise, it has a tinge of nervousness behind it. "But I just couldn't bring myself to say something. And to think he gave me this really cool Bulbasaur cake in fourth grade..."

Kyungsoo drops his pen in shock.

Junmyeon reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cutout of Bulbasaur's head, stiff glossy paper with a toothpick taped on it. Kyungsoo remembers making this, because he couldn't draw Bulbasaur's head with icing well. "I kept it," He says softly, placing the cake topper on Kyungsoo's open palm. "I sort of knew you liked me back then. Well, I had a hunch, but I was pretty sure you didn't think I was an idiot. I was thinking of returning the favor, but I realized I never knew what you liked, so..."

He traces the paper with a finger delicately, mind still reeling from the confession that he just got. And to think he was thinking of being the one to confess his feelings today. Who knew they were dancing around each other for years now? Who knew that the boy he secretly looked at from afar, looked at him back? And who knew that their fates would meet again, despite everything?

Fate is indeed a funny little thing.

"Kyungsoo?" Junmyeon asks tentatively, perhaps unnerved by his silence.

"Pororo," Kyungsoo says suddenly. "I liked Pororo back in grade school. I had a Pororo lunch tin when I was in third grade, and I had this little plush keychain on my backpack."

"But you changed your lunchbox to a black cloth one in fourth grade, so I wasn't sure if you still liked it," Junmyeon replies. "Oh, but you kept the keychain, didn't you? Man, I'm dumb. Um... I'm sorry?"

Kyungsoo bursts out laughing. They are both so helpless. "And here you are, thinking that I didn't see you as an idiot," He snorts. "I do now."

"I said I'm sorry!" Junmyeon says, but he ends up laughing as well. "To be fair, I didn't say anything because I was kind of scared of you. I think everyone was, at some point. You always look terrified or murderous. Some kids even dubbed you Satansoo."

"It's to keep away idiots like you," Kyungsoo quips, earning him a light shove on the shoulder. "Speak for yourself, Mr. Popular. You're always surrounded by this huge group of friends. No way am I confessing to you in front of a large crowd."

"Aha! So you _did_ like me back then!" The latter exclaims, bouncing in his seat. It's their Tuesday dyad work all over again, when he remembered that Kyungsoo gave him gifts for White Day. "I was right! I wasn't being assuming after all!"

"I gave you a meticulously decorated cake," He deadpans, incredulous despite feeling the heat creep up his face. "I wrote you a poem. In _cursive_."

"Still. You liked me," Junmyeon continues to celebrate until a thought dawns on him, making him frown. "Huh. So I guess that really _does_ make me an idiot. I just missed my chance, didn't I?"

"Um, kind of?" He says.

"Well, that sucks," The other man pouts, clearly put out. "Was that my last? I don't get another chance? I did find you again after a long time. That's got to merit a second chance, right?"

"Um—" Kyungsoo blinks, not exactly sure where this conversation is going. Okay, he is, but he doesn't want to assume, even if there is precedent about not assuming things in their situation and how that turned into years of seemingly unrequited pining.

"Come on, let me take you out. Brunch?" Junmyeon grins at him in a way that he's sure he's charming and irresistible, and _god_ he's just so attractive, even after all these years. "You've made me wait for your feelings long enough. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

He's asking him out on a date. His first love—Baekhyun wins this round, he thinks grudgingly—has found him after years of being apart, and is now asking him out on a _date_. But sadly— "I have class," He says, wincing. "I'm not trying to avoid you, I swear. But I really have class after this."

"I know. I tried. Dinner, then," Junmyeon shrugs, undeterred. "Tonight, or whenever you're free. You're not getting out of this, Do Kyungsoo. I've waited years to find out whether my first love was unrequited or not. You owe me at least a few dinner dates before you disappear on me again."

His first love. There goes his heart again, flopping uselessly in his chest. "Dinner's fine. Tonight's fine," Kyungsoo nods, not even bothering to fight the smile creeping up his lips. "Pick me up at my apartment at seven?"

"No problem. Text me your address," Junmyeon grins as Professor Jung's clear voice rings across the lecture hall, announcing their dismissal. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Only if you give me a Pororo cake and a poem," Kyungsoo teases, laughing when Junmyeon gapes at him, shocked. "You still owe me a White Day confession, right? You're not the only one who pined here. I deserve a cake."

"You're evil," Junmyeon complains as Kyungsoo leaves the lecture hall, still laughing. There's a specialty cake store not far from campus; he'll be alright.

And when Junmyeon arrives at Kyungsoo's apartment later that night, carrying a bunch of Pororo cake pops and a Lang Leav poem printed in rose-smelling card stock, he knows—despite the missed opportunities, the lengthy years apart, and all that, they'll be alright.


End file.
